


Music of Thursday

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Art, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Fan Comics, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gifts, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Music, Piano, art inspired by fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Dean finds out that Cas can play the piano.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean hears a single sweet note from the piano down the hall. The house he and Cas had just cleared of ghosts is quiet and Cas isn’t at his side. He walks down the hall slowly as more bittersweet notes drift down the hallway. 

Sitting at the piano bench is his angel. His back is to Dean and his arms move slowly. His head is tilted in a way that tells Dean, Cas isn’t reading music. The bottom of the trench coat falls neatly behind him, only moving slightly with his gentle movements.

Dean takes quiet steps around Cas so he has a profile view of the piano and Castiel. His blue eyes are closed to the world around him, his face lifted slightly to the ceiling. His fingers press into the keys expertly and his foot moves at the pedals under the piano as if he’s been doing this his entire life. 

The tendons in his hands move quicker, the beat of the song picking up. The sad start to the song is over, replaced with a call to action, quick notes promising that the story has a happy end. His hand spreads wide, his thumb tapping at a black key while his other four fingers work the white keys a ways away. His right hand is busy with the climbing crescendo of staccato. 

He sways gently, the music moving through him, his eyes still closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. He is beautiful in the dark room with the enchanting music flowing from his fingers and giving life to the abandoned piano. 

Dean leans against the wall and it creaks. Cas jumps, his hands leaving the piano and the room coming to an abrupt silence. His eyes are open, deep blue finding forest green immediately. 

“Dean,” Cas says on an exhale. He stands, backing away from the piano and Dean silently curses himself for ruining such a pure moment for Cas. “I must have forgotten where we were.” 

Dean had never seen Cas look so flustered. He’d never been able to sneak up on Cas before. And he had certainly never seen Cas let himself let go like that. 

“You know how to play piano?” Dean says instead of the hundreds of thousands of compliments that stay buried in the bottom of his heart. 

“I… Yes.” Cas walks away from the piano, leading Dean out of the house and back to the car. Dean makes a mental note that his angel can play the piano and it is the most wonderful music he has never heard. 

Cas is quiet on the drive home as he usually is. He switches between watching Dean’s hands on the wheel of the car and looking out the window and the passing scenes that are untouchable beyond the glass. Dean sneaks in his glances at his angel, wanting to ask more about the virtuoso locked away inside of him, but unable to bring himself to broach the subject.

He doesn’t dare mention it again until Cas is out of the bunker, stretching his wings. Dean makes his way to his brother’s room and knocks. 

“Yeah?” Sam calls. Dean opens the door and leans against the wall. “What’s up?”

“We need a few things from the store,” Dean says, holding out a list. “Can you think of anything else?”

Sam takes the list and looks it over briefly before stopping and looking up at his brother. “A piano? You want to buy a piano? You can’t even play.”

“I need a piano.” Dean doesn’t explain. He just waits for Sam to either argue more or add anything to his list of groceries plus piano. 

“Oh...kay?” Sam nods slowly. “We’ll get you a piano. Where exactly are we putting it?”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean brushes him off and takes the list back. “I’ll be back later.” 

The piano is delivered on a Thursday. 

“Cas!” Dean says, capturing his attention away from the lore book open on the library table. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. He tilts his head and Dean’s heart flutters. He swallows hard and gestures for Cas to follow him. “Where are we going?”

“I have to show you something.”

Dean opens the door to the room he created for his angel. In the center of the room is a sleek black grand piano. There’s a new couch, white and plush, in the corner of the room next to a small bookshelf of sheet music. Small dim lights sit on the bookshelf, giving the room a soft glow. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, looking around the room in awe. “What?”

“You play the piano,” Dean says awkwardly. He walks into the room and gestures to the grand. “I bought you a piano. I didn’t know what kind to get or-”

“It’s wonderful,” Cas whispers. He walks slowly toward his gift and trails his fingers along the exposed keys. He lets one finger dip, pressing the key down and hearing the first sweet note of his piano. 

Dean goes to the couch and sits, watching as Cas allows himself to play. This music is different from the last song. This one is surprisingly quick, a racing heart that screams of the joy and excitement of finally being set free. His hands are moving fast, all of his fingers occupied with their notes. 

His eyes meet Dean’s as he plays, a soft smile making its way to the surface of his lips. Dean’s heart leaps with the music and he tries to stay still, sitting on the couch. 

“Come here,” Cas says, moving over on the bench. Dean shakes his head, knowing that his clumsy fingers will ruin any song. “You love music. Come here.”

“I’ll ruin it, Cas. This is for you.” 

“Dean,” Cas pleads. It’s enough. Dean drags himself off of the couch and plops himself down on the bench. Their legs are touching, thighs pressed together as they sit. Dean clears his throat, but Cas doesn’t seem to notice. 

Cas takes Dean’s hands in his and puts them onto the piano. He gently moves his hands with Dean’s, pressing Dean’s fingertips against the ivory and sharing the whimsical notes that surround them. Dean can’t breathe as his hands are guided under Cas’.

“What are you doing?” Dean breathes. His voice can’t manage anything over that with Cas’ shoulder pressed against his and their hands linked, slowly playing a melody that seems to come from both of them. 

“I’m playing the piano,” Cas says quietly. He closes his eyes and his chin rests gently on Dean’s shoulder. “With you,” he adds, his breath on Dean’s neck. 

“Cas,” Dean manages, his heart in his throat making him choke. 

Cas’ hand leaves Dean’s, moving to cup Dean’s jaw as he gently presses his chapped lips against Dean’s. Dean kisses back immediately, melting into Cas’ touch, his lips parting for his angel. 

“Thank you,” Cas whispers against Dean’s lips. 

“I love you.” The words fall out of Dean’s mouth before he can stop them. 

“Dean,” Cas answers. It’s the same three words, squashed down to one. 

Every day that they’re in the bunker, Dean and Cas disappear into the music room. Every day that they go to the music room, Dean sits and watches Cas play the piano until neither of them are content with being so far away and Cas teaches Dean to play. 

Sam found them one day, following the sound of their music when it had stopped, a few notes spluttering, still leading him to the piano room, where he found Dean in the arms of an angel, sitting at a piano bench. He had smiled and closed the door quietly, leaving them to each other in their safe haven of music. 

“The song you first played,” Dean ventures as Cas takes his place at the piano bench once again. Dean is laying on the couch, his shirt discarded on the floor and his pants loose, unbuttoned, having only just been pulled back on. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asks as his fingers play the first few sad notes of the song Dean is referring to. His dark hair is still messy from having Dean’s hands run through it. He’s also shirtless, allowing Dean to watch his muscles ripple as he plays. 

“I’ve never heard it before.”

“You wouldn’t have. I made it.” Cas closes his eyes as he plays it again, letting the sound move through the room, bitter sadness changing to hope and excitement. Dean watches Cas, his arms moving and hands dancing across the keys. “I made it about you.”

“About me?”

“You were lost once, Dean Winchester.” His voice is deep and it’s sound adds to the music rather than takes away from it. “I was lost, once. Then I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” His eyes open and they lock onto Dean’s. “And I fell in love.” 

Castiel died on a Thursday. 

Dean had screamed. With the silence of Castiel, Dean’s soul quieted, the music room locked, his grief the only thing left to be heard. The Impala’s stereo was silenced as was every music player that came within twenty feet of Dean Winchester. Until one day. 

Sam walked through the bunker, ready to walk into his brother’s room and bring him the food he knew wouldn’t be eaten. None of the other plates had been. Why should today be any different? Except it is different. When he arrives, Dean isn’t sitting in his bed, on his chair, on the floor, or in his room at all. 

That’s when he hears it; the sweet whisper of a piano being played. He walks to the once locked room and finds Dean, standing over the piano, his hands on the black and white keys that seem to have locked away his heart. 

Dean sits on the bench, but it looks more like falling. His foot moves to the pedal and his hands work at the keys, his grief soaking each note. Tears spill over and drip down his nose, landing on his hands and the pristine ivory of the piano. His eyes are closed, seeing only Cas. 

He sees Castiel, wings behind him, blue eyes intense and focused only on him. He sees Castiel, dark hair moved by the wind, a small smile on his face. He sees Cas sitting beside him in the Impala. He sees Cas, walking through the bunker. He sees Castiel playing his piano.

“Dean.”  _ I love you. _

“Cas,” Dean whispers, his lips salty and wet with his own tears.

He sees his lover’s eyes, bright with unrestrained joy as he allows himself to be wrapped up in Dean’s arms. He sees his angel’s lips, soft and pink, saying his name. He sees his boyfriend’s hands on the keys of the same piano that he plays now, guiding his hands along the piano. 

He hears Cas’ wings beat against the air as he appears in the room. He hears Cas’ satisfied moans that had once filled this room. He hears Castiel playing the piano, his fingers dancing, creating their own tune. 

“Cas,” Dean chokes, his fingers hitting the keys harder as his heart begins to slam into his chest. He falls forward, his arms slamming into the piano and causing almost every note to be played at once as he sobs into the instrument. 

Jack stands with Sam in the doorway and closes his eyes, listening to the music of grief. 

The sounds of Dean Winchester playing the piano fill the bunker and the empty. Castiel doesn’t stir, too deep in his eternal sleep to wake, though the sound fills his dreams and he dreams of Dean. Their music continues to play, healing and hurting Dean one note at a time as Cas sleeps happily, blissfully unaware of his hunter’s anguish. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful Fanart by [thisstupidrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstupidrock)  
> [Original Post on Tumblr](https://thisstupidrock.tumblr.com/post/184194148995/written-by-the-wonderfully-talented)
> 
> Thank you for making this! I'm so glad my writing could inspire your beautiful art!

**Author's Note:**

> "Next Chapter" for Fan Art!


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